Secrets and Revelations
by criminalxxxmindsxxxfreak
Summary: Post-Reichenbach reunion. Mycroft takes Prentiss into his confidence, telling her that Sherlock survived the fall that fateful day. She's not supposed to tell anyone, but how can she keep it from Reid and John? Hints of Johnlock and Morgan/Reid. Twoshot.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **Secrets and Revelations

**Rating: **T (mostly for safety)

**Pairings: **Possible hints of Johnlock

**Warnings: **MAJOR **SPOILERS** FOR S7E23/24 of Criminal Minds "Hit/Run" and **SPOILERS** for S2E3 of Sherlock, "The Reichenbach Fall"

**A/N: **Ok, this isn't the fic I planned on writing (that one is still in-the-works) but I just watched the CM season finale and this idea… it wouldn't leave me. Still, John will be here, along with Sherlock, Reid, Mycroft and Prentiss. (This may end up a tad AU come season 8 of CM and series 3 of Sherlock considering it's technically a "future" fic…)

Does go along w/"An Even Match", "Interesting Friends", "Casual Deductions" and "Chinks in the Armor" but can be read alone.

And this is a two-parter guys so expect the next (and final) chapter soon. Hopefully by the weekend.

(Most of Reid and John's parts are in the second half of this, but they do have parts here as well…)

Please review!

* * *

London, England, UK

July 23, 2012

* * *

Emily sighed heavily as she stared around her new flat. It was relatively small, but nice and clean and also incredibly empty. She'd been staying in a hotel since she'd arrived, waiting for her things to be shipped. The boxes were currently stacked in the living room, still unopened. She put her hands on her hips and blew a loose strand of hair from her face. This was a daunting task.

She had been in London a little more than a month now. The move had been less stressful than she'd expected, but she missed the team. They were her family, had been for almost seven years now. Letting go was difficult, but she _needed _the change and she wanted the job Clyde had offered her. And, of course, it wasn't as if they didn't keep in touch. She got phone calls and emails and pictures and videos. And it hadn't even been two months yet. She doubted she'd ever really find time to truly miss them.

She did, however, miss Sergio. She'd left him in the capable care of Garcia, but that meant she was alone. She would have to get another cat, she supposed. Or maybe try actually dating for a change. It _had _been a while.

A knock at the door made her frown. She'd heard the bell ringing a few minutes ago but had assumed it was for one of the other tenants in the building; the walls were thin and the only person she really knew here was Clyde, who wasn't actually in London at the moment. The landlady must've let them up.

Her hand went to the invisible gun at her hip and she had to force herself to relax. Months in hiding and years of training had taught her to be extra cautious. Too cautious. What kind of criminal knocks first?

She pulled the door open and blinked, "Reid?" she stepped back automatically as the younger man entered, offering her a smile. There was another man behind him, shorter, blond hair, sad eyes.

"Sorry for not calling first," Reid apologized, "I found out I'd be in London last minute and… decided to drop by. Oh, um, this is Dr. John Watson, he's a friend."

She smiled, nodding to the man, "It's nice to meet you, Dr. Watson… Wait," she frowned, turning to Reid, "Dr. Watson as in… John? Sherlock's roommate?"

Reid took a breath and John visibly winced, but otherwise didn't really respond. "Yeah," he said, clearing his throat. "I've got some time to kill and I thought maybe you'd like some help unpacking your things."

She smiled, glancing over at John. He looked… better than she had expected, but still like hell. She'd never met John before, but she'd met Sherlock a couple of times – he mentioned John a lot during those times. The man she'd pictured was nothing like the man before her. He seemed… broken somehow. She felt a pang of sympathy and regret hit her, but forced the smile to stay in place.

"Yeah, thanks… There's a lot to get done. The boxes have been sitting here for three days; I haven't had much time to work on it, trying to get settled and everything. I've actually got a meeting in about an hour." She glanced at her watch and sighed. She really should be getting ready, but she wanted to at least make a dent in the unpacking. Maybe with Reid and John there she could.

The hour went by quickly. John didn't say much, at least not a first. And usually he only spoke to Reid. Prentiss didn't let it bother her. John was still upset and hurting about Sherlock. She was amazed at well Reid was coping, sometimes she didn't like the implications of how together he seemed.

The end of her hour was winding down and she was still in her jeans and t-shirt, hair messily tugged into a ponytail. She'd have to rush to get ready, but they'd made real progress. John tore open a box of carefully framed photographs. Most of them were of her and the team, some of her and Sergio, a few of her and her mother. And one of her, Reid, Morgan and Sherlock.

That was the photo John was holding in his hands.

"When was this taken?" he asked, glancing up at them.

Prentiss moved to look at the picture. There was a rare, genuine smile on Sherlock's face in the picture, she remembered how oddly happy he'd been that day. He'd actually called John rather than text him and from what she knew, that was a huge deal.

"Uh, last time Sherlock was in Virginia…" she said, "We actually let him help on a case and it was Reid's birthday*. Reid and Sherlock solved it pretty much by themselves."

Reid smiled at the picture fondly, "It was mostly me," he said, "Sherlock was happy because he said he'd known the answer the entire time and just let me figure it out slower than he did."

John laughed, a short, sad breath of a laugh but a laugh all the same. "Sounds like Sherlock. Think I remember him mentioning that once or twice… Zodiac copy-cat wasn't it?"

"Yeah," Prentiss nodded, watching John's face. "He called you after the case, I think."

John nodded, smiling faintly. "Yeah, yeah, I remember that. God that was… a month before he…"

He trailed off and Reid put a comforting hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently and giving him a sad look. Prentiss started to say something but her watch started beeping and she sighed, "I'm sorry, I've got to get ready… I'm already going to be late. But, um, Reid if you're going to be here tonight maybe you and John would like to go out for drinks or something?"

"Yeah," Reid nodded and John nodded, reluctantly. Prentiss sighed heavily as the two men left and she rushed to get ready, tossing off her street clothes and getting into her suit and skirt and yanking the brush through her hair. It was flat and annoying so she yanked it into a braid and grabbed her bag. She didn't know who she was meeting, Clyde had called to tell her about it just last night and he said he couldn't give her a name.

Frustrated and running late, Prentiss hailed a cab and muttered to herself as they sped toward the address that Clyde had given her.

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

Prentiss's breath caught as she entered the building. It was a large and imposing building. Definitely government, but a bit more subdued than she was used to. She sighed and checked her phone again, making sure she had the information correct, before heading for the elevator and stepping inside.

There were less people inside than she would have expected. A thin man stood by the door, another man sat behind the reception desk. There were a couple other very official looking people standing around, looking bored or busy – she couldn't really tell the difference, their faces were so expressionless. But that was it. She felt oddly anxious as the elevator pulled her up to the fourth floor. She wasn't a naturally anxious person so she just put it down to the new job. She was a bit anxious on her first day in the BAU as well, though she'd done everything she could to hide that fact.

"Fourth floor, second door on the right," she muttered to herself as the doors slid open and she stepped out. There were eight doors that she could see down the wide – empty – hall. All of them with a brass plaque on the front declaring the name of the person within. All except, of course, the second door on the right.

She frowned and tapped on the door, waiting a second until she heard a very distinguished sounding voice call from the other side.

"Come in,"

She didn't know how the man did it, but those two words conveyed arrogance, intelligence, pride and something else she couldn't identify. For a moment she was reminded of Sherlock and the almost permanent arrogance that laced nearly everything he said.

She smiled as she entered, "So sorry I'm late," she said, glancing down at her watch out of habit. Only fifteen minutes (she felt a stab of pride at that) but late all the same. "I got caught up –"

"Unpacking, yes," the man nodded, smiling at her. For some reason his smile didn't seem like a smile… but it wasn't really a smirk or a sneer either. It was some odd, slightly off version of a smile that made her mildly uncomfortable.

"Don't worry, Emily, it's fine. If I may call you Emily, that is,"

"Uh, sure, of course," she said, nodding, "And you are?"

"You look rather like your mother," he said, tilting his head and standing, "The resemblance is very striking. And from what I hear you have her tenacity as well. I'm sure you'll do wonderful in the London office."

Prentiss sighed and shook her head, "Right. Of course, friend of my mother's?"

"Well… I wouldn't say friend. Acquaintance, perhaps. We've met on a few occasions. Very intelligent woman, Ambassador Prentiss. Your own career proves that you are as well, and you also happen to be a close friend of Dr. Spencer Reid, which is why I asked you here today."

"Reid?" Prentiss frowned, "What does Reid have to do with anything?"

The man hesitated for a moment, "This is a very delicate matter, Emily, you must understand that. And it is vital that what you learn in this room does not leave this room. It's not only a matter of importance to myself, but also to Spencer, John and several others. Life and death, you'd say. Literally."

"What's going on?" Prentiss narrowed her eyes and frowned, watching him carefully as he turned and put his hand on a door – she assumed it was a closet – behind his desk.

"Can you do that Emily? Can you promise not to breathe a word of this? Not to Spencer or John especially? It's far too soon and still too dangerous for them to know the truth."

"What are you talking about? What's this about?"

He took a breath, "It's about my brother, Emily."

"Your brother?"

"Yes. I need your assurance that you can keep this here. Can you?"

Prentiss pressed her lips together, curiosity and anxiousness eating at her. "I can't really promise that if I don't know exactly what I'm promising," she finally answered.

The man smiled, "Ah, well, smart answer. I suppose I'll have to rely on my brother's insistence then. He seems to believe you're capable of keeping this quiet."

"Look seriously, tell me what's going on –"

"It's a rather complicated tale, Emily," he said, "I think you'd better sit down for this, and remember that what you are about to see does not leave this room."

Prentiss crossed her arms and stubbornly remained standing, not breaking eye contact with the man as he twisted the knob and pushed the door open, leaning inside what she realized was another room – possibly an office – adjacent to this one.

He tilted his head to the side, "I know you heard all that," he said, sounding vaguely annoyed. "You can come out now and please, spare me the theatrics."

There was an annoyed huff and then the sound of footsteps a moment later. Prentiss craned her neck to see as a tall figure stepped into the doorway and the man stepped aside to allow him entrance.

Her jaw fell open as she stared at him.

"Sherlock?"

* * *

**~To be continued~**

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

**A/N: **Bad place to leave it? Hmm. Good.

*****Reference to S7E11 of Criminal Minds, "True Genius". That does make this a teeny bit AU considering Sherlock was there. Maybe I'll write my version of the episode eventually. *shrugs* That all depends...

First time writing Mycroft. Really nervous about how I did with his character. Please let me know!

The second half of this (with more Reid and John) will be posted as soon as possible!

Hope you enjoyed and please review!


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: **Secrets and Revelations

**Rating: **T (mostly for safety)

**Pairings: **Johnlock; Hints of Morgan/Reid

**Warnings: **MAJOR **SPOILERS** FOR S7E23/24 of Criminal Minds "Hit/Run" and **SPOILERS** for S2E3 of Sherlock, "The Reichenbach Fall"

**A/N: **So here you have it, the second half of this spoiler-ific (should totally be a word) fic. Also, remember that this will most likely be slightly AU considering it's a "future" fic and so everything is a tad uncertain.

More Mycroft, more Sherlock, more Prentiss, John and Reid as well. There's a time jump so please pay attention to the dates. I work hard to make them all line up properly with the shows but this one I had to take a stab at considering that Series 3 of Sherlock hasn't aired yet and I have no idea what's going to happen in season 8 of Criminal Minds.

Anyway, let's get to the reunion/revelation. Secrets are revealed! Hints of Johnlock are heavy. Morgan/Reid hints are a bit more subtle. Almost impossible to see unless you squint and wear your slash-goggles.

Please review!

* * *

London, England, UK

November 18, 2013

* * *

Prentiss sighed as she entered the office. The very same office she'd spent much of her time in for the past several long months. _More than a year, _a voice in her subconscious reminded her quietly. She shucked that voice off and sat down without a word to the man sitting opposite her.

Mycroft didn't look up as Emily entered. He was used to these visits. Ever since he'd revealed to her the truth about Sherlock's death she'd become a near constant fixture in the office. Most of the conversations were about how to keep Sherlock hidden, how to protect Spencer, John and Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade until they were certain that all was safe.

"I can't keep doing this," Prentiss finally sighed, shaking her head. She looked different now than she had almost a year ago. Her hair was shorter, she dressed differently and she never went anywhere unarmed, working or not. Despite the ridged, confidant way she held herself, she was tired and it showed in her eyes. She hated seeing John Watson almost every week and lying to his face. She dreaded visits and phone calls from Reid and being unable to tell him the truth. She now had a deeper understanding of what Hotch and JJ had been through during her "death".

Mycroft's hand stilled over the paper he'd been writing on and he looked up sharply, "Now is not the time for doubt, Emily. We are very close to ending this. Only one sniper remains at large –"

"Then at least let me use my team!" Prentiss said, "They're good agents, they get the job done, they're trained for this sort of thing."

"I have every confidence in your new team," Mycroft said, "But this is a matter that must be contained as closely as possible. Do you think I couldn't have Interpol tying this up if I wanted them? I have already explained this. We cannot risk it."

She sighed, "You aren't the one lying to friends every time they call and come by, Mycroft. I can't stand this. They deserve to know the truth."

Mycroft sat back in his seat, eyeing her carefully, "While you're dealing with John and Spencer who do you think has to deal with our Mother and Father? Do you think I enjoy allowing them to believe their youngest son is dead? Once we have Sebastian Moran in custody, you can tell them. Until then, it's too risky."

"We would have Moran in custody faster if you'd let me use my team!"

"The risk involved –"

"The risk is irrelevant!" Prentiss snapped, "This has gone on too long, Mycroft. As far as Reid and John and the rest of the world are concerned, Sherlock has been dead over a year. They need to know the truth."

"When you were in Paris and your team believed you dead did you call them?"

"…No," Prentiss's jaw was tight.

"Did you hope that Agents Hotchner and Jareau would take them aside and tell them the truth? Or did you hope that they'd keep quiet to make sure that they were protected from Ian Doyle?"

She sighed, "I see your point, Mycroft, but Moriarty is dead. Moran is just one man and we're close to finding him. He's in Scotland –"

"_Was_ in Scotland," Mycroft cut her off, "He arrived in London early this morning."

She blinked, "He's here? And you didn't call me?"

"I have men tailing him," Mycroft said, "I need you to see to something else."

She made a face, "You do realize I don't actually work for you, Mycroft?"

He smiled that not-smile of his that unsettled her, "Of course," he said, "But this is something I'd only trust you to handle. Spencer will be in London this afternoon –"

"What?" Prentiss sat forward, "Why?"

"I asked him to come. He's on vacation and Agent Hotchner allowed it. He insisted on bringing Agent Morgan, however. I need you to pick them up. Their flight arrives at 1:30 this afternoon. Distract them until I can speak with Spencer. Do _not _tell him about Sherlock, Emily. He cannot know yet."

She sighed, standing, "Fine. Keep me updated on Moran, I want to know the second your men take him down because I will call John and Reid and tell them both."

Mycroft sighed, "I suppose I wouldn't expect anything else."

She nodded and left, her phone buzzing as she closed the door. She frowned as she flipped it open and saw the now familiar blocked number and read the text.

We need to talk. Tonight. Usual meeting place. –SH

She bit her lip and sent a quick reply. No doubt Mycroft had no idea about the text. In fact, for all his surveillance, there was a great deal Mycroft didn't know. Sherlock and Prentiss had been meeting secretly so that she could keep him updated on John and Spencer and how they were dealing with things. Sometimes, to entertain him, she would bring cases along with her and ask his opinion. It was really the only thing he could do for the time being.

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

Reid fidgeted with his coat, sighing heavily as he and Morgan searched the terminal for Prentiss. Mycroft had said she'd arrive to pick them up, though Reid was curious as to why Prentiss would pick them up. He guessed the two had crossed paths while working and Mycroft being Mycroft knew exactly who she was.

"Stop twitching," Morgan sighed, grabbing Reid's hand and tugging it away from his coat. "I told you not to drink all that coffee."

Reid made a face at him, "It's not the coffee," he said, "It's Mycroft. He never asks me to come, for anything. What could he possibly have to talk to me about?"

Morgan rolled his eyes, "C'mon, Spencer, the way you talk about Mycroft makes him sound like some double agent assassin."

"He's definitely not an assassin," Reid smiled faintly, "But I think he could be worse… When we were kids, Sherlock used to call him a puppet-master. He could make almost anyone do anything he wanted. Now he pretty much runs the entire British government."

"Reid," Morgan eyed his skeptically, raising a brow.

"Don't give me that look, Derek," Reid leveled him with a semi-serious glare. "You haven't met Mycroft yet. If you had, you'd know exactly what I'm talking about."

"Alright, alright. I'll withhold judgment until I meet the Almighty Mycroft Holmes," his eyes twinkled and Reid made another face at him, shaking his head.

"Guys!" Prentiss's voice came from somewhere in the crowd. Reid spotted her first and she grinned, hugging them both excitedly. "It's been so long!"

Morgan playfully tossed her hair, "Nice look, Emily."

She made a face and tucked her hair behind her ear, smiling and looking between the two of them. "Well, wow…" her eyes stayed on Reid a moment too long and that pang of guilt hit her square in the chest. She swallowed it and quickly led the way to the waiting car.

"You two look good. How's the rest of the team?"

"Ah, barely getting by without you, Prentiss," Morgan teased. She rolled her eyes and looked to the younger man.

"Seriously, Reid, how is everyone?" she asked.

"Good, everyone's great. We do miss you, though," he said. "Hotch and Beth are engaged…"

"Really?" she smiled, "That's great. I haven't talked to them in a couple of months, when did that happen?"

"Last week," Morgan said, "And JJ and Will are expecting another baby, but I think she already told you about that."

Prentiss smiled, "Yeah, she was excited. Apparently Will's freaking out. Doesn't think he can handle two kids."

"Yeah, he'll be fine though…" Morgan said, "How are things at your new job? Enjoying your own team? Running the London Interpol?"

She pressed her lips together, "It's a job…" she said, "And I do like being the boss… Mycroft seems to think my working for Interpol means I work for him, but other than that, nothing to complain about."

Reid smiled, "I figured that's what happened. You know, if you just ignore Mycroft he'll eventually leave you alone."

She smirked, "So why are you here when he calls?"

Reid paused to think about that, "Easier to do what he wants than ignore him."

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

Prentiss really wished that Reid and Morgan had asked to go somewhere else besides 221B Baker Street. She was already having a hard time keeping herself together with Reid there, she hadn't had to face Reid and John together for a long time and she didn't know how she'd do it.

Luckily, Mrs. Hudson told them that John was out and Prentiss made a quick excuse to leave – claiming she had an important case to get back to. They made her promise to meet them later and she said she'd call. Doubted she would though. She knew she wouldn't be able to resist telling them the truth.

She was watching the clock in her office, waiting for it to be 6:30. Mycroft would probably be talking with Reid now. She'd managed to learn, through a text from Sherlock, that Reid had been talking to Molly Hooper a lot lately and Mycroft was worried he may have uncovered something.

She was slightly pissed that Mycroft hadn't just told her that in the first place, but of course she shoved the feeling aside. Mycroft only ever shared what he deemed necessary and to him, "necessary" apparently had an entirely different meaning from the rest of the world.

Her phone buzzed and she picked it, expecting it to be from Sherlock, but it was Mycroft.

Moran is still in sight. Men will move in shortly. You may want to be there for this. –MH

She chewed her lip, debating about cancelling her plans with Sherlock, but decided it against it in the end.

Can't. Busy. Meeting Reid, Morgan and John later.

Be carefully, Emily. Do not tell them anything until we have Moran. –MH

She rolled her eyes and ignored his next text, throwing her things into her bag, checking the gun at her hip and firing off a quick text to Sherlock:

Leaving the office now. Be there in twenty.

Sherlock's reply was instant, as per usual.

I'll be waiting. –SH

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

"That was odd," Reid said, frowning as he entered the flat again, finding Morgan and John sitting on the sofa watching television. Well, sort of anyway. The sound was off and neither of them were really watching it, they were talking to each other, holding an old photograph between the two of them.

Morgan looked up, grinning, "What was?"

"Apparently Mycroft thinks I shouldn't be talking to Molly…" Reid said, shrugging his coat off and approaching them. "What are you two looking at?"

"Just an old photograph," John said, a faint smile on his face. Those smiles were very rare these days, but John was certainly doing much better now than he had been almost a year ago. He'd even stopped seeing his therapist – said Sherlock would've called her useless anyway.

Reid tilted his head and looked at the picture, groaning when he realized it was one of him, Sherlock and Mycroft when they were kids. Mycroft was about fourteen, he'd just turned six and Sherlock was almost eight. Spencer and Sherlock were covered nearly head to foot in was appeared to be red slime. An experiment Sherlock had insisted Reid help him with that had gone horribly wrong. Diana had taken a picture of the two boys trying to clean themselves up while Mycroft watched, sitting at the table with that smug not-smile on his face.

"You were adorable," Morgan teased, "What's all over you two?"

"Vinegar, red food coloring and something else Sherlock would never tell me the name off. I think it was poisonous. Lucky, we escaped with mild burns and sticky stuff in our hair for days."

John snorted, shaking his head, "I can't imagine having to wash that stuff out of hair like yours and Sherlock's. Didn't your mothers ever hear of haircuts?"

Reid sighed and sat down, "Well Sherlock hated getting haircuts, threw a fit every single time. He actually bit one of the barbers… So his mother avoided it for as long as possible."

John smiled, shaking his head. "That's definitely something he would do," he said, tracing the face of young Sherlock in the photo. The three of them fell silent and Reid bit his lip, finding himself wishing Sherlock were there. He'd never missed him so much before, except perhaps right after the funeral.

He cleared his throat and changed the subject, "Have you heard from Prentiss?"

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

The restaurant was a tiny little hole-in-the-wall place, dimly lit and just perfect for these kind of meetings. Prentiss remembered the first time she'd come here; they'd given her odd looks, dressed in her suit and skirt and looking as professional as she did while most of the patrons wore jeans and ratty t-shirts.

She spotted Sherlock at their usual table and made her way to him, fingering the butt of her gun as her eyes darted around the space for anyone suspicious. She pulled the seat out and sat down, smiling at the other man briefly. He looked exactly the same, yet entirely different. He was extremely good at blending. Without his coat and scarf he looked almost alien to her, but the make things more odd he was wearing jeans, a heavy trench coat, a loose-fitting dress shirt and sneakers.

Sherlock Holmes in sneakers. She never got used to that.

"So, what do you need to talk about?" she asked quietly, leaning forward.

"You're on Moran's tail," Sherlock said, meeting her gaze with his piercing blue eyes. "He'll slip through Mycroft's fingers, he's too good not to. But I know where he'll be tonight. I need you to text John and Spencer. Tell them to meet you at your flat tomorrow morning."

"Sherlock –"

"And come with me tonight. I'm going to put an end to this."

"Mycroft isn't going to like that," Prentiss said, folding her arms across her chest. Though she had to admit, she probably enjoyed the thought of one-upping the elder Holmes brother a bit more than she should.

Sherlock smirked, "Please. Do you think I care? It's been too long, Emily. I cannot do this any longer. Sebastian Moran is in London, that window of time won't last for very long. Come with me tonight, we'll apprehend him. Then we'll meet Spencer and John in the morning and tell them the truth."

"What makes you think he'll give Mycroft the slip? _How _could he even do that?"

Sherlock leaned back, "You'll be getting the text any moment now," he said confidently. Smugly. Sometimes Prentiss wanted to hit him when he sounded that arrogant. She really didn't know how Reid had put up with the two Holmes brothers for such a long time without going insane.

Less than thirty seconds later, her phone buzzed and Sherlock raised a brow, giving her that annoying smug look again.

Moran is gone. They lost the trail, but as long as he's in London we'll find him. –MH

She sighed and rolled her eyes, "Alright, fine. What's this plan of yours?"

Sherlock grinned a predatory grin. He had missed this part of his old life.

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

Prentiss had to admit, she hadn't really believed Sherlock's plan would work. Sitting up until well after two in the morning in an abandoned house, waiting. Watching. They spent most of the time talking – he wanted to know everything she could tell him about how John had been lately. He said he'd learned Moran was on his tail a few months ago and that was why he'd returned to London himself. He'd been in Dublin before that and Paris before that, but he came back to London frequently. Always anxious to be away from the city (away from John).

As the hours dragged on she was certain the plan was a bust and the waiting game was getting boring, but around 2:40 they heard the first creak on the old stairs and Sherlock sat up, telling Prentiss to have her gun ready while he checked his own. (Mycroft had allowed him to carry it for his own protection, telling him he'd have to return it once this was over. Sherlock disagreed.)

It was over before it really started. Moran was a strong, able-bodied man but Prentiss hadn't spent years training in the FBI and Interpol for nothing and while Sherlock might not look it, he was one hell of fighter. Taking down the former Army Colonel took about ten minutes, earning both Prentiss and Sherlock new bruises but totally worth it to see the man swearing vehemently in handcuffs.

Prentiss allowed Sherlock to make the call to Mycroft while she assured him that Reid and John would be at her flat in the morning.

Mycroft had been less than pleased that they'd gone off on their own, but Prentiss could tell he was both relieved that they'd caught Moran and – though he'd dare not admit it – proud of his little brother. He allowed Sherlock to go with Prentiss to her flat where the younger Holmes did not sleep. He said he might never sleep again.

Impatient, he nearly dragged Prentiss to 221B instead of waiting until morning. She had to practically chain him down to keep him there, but finally she got a few hours' sleep and he pouted until the sun came up.

* * *

**~/.\~**

* * *

Reid, John and Morgan arrived at Prentiss' flat a little after eight in the morning to find her flitting around the place, trying to clean up.

"Are you alright, Emily?" Morgan asked, raising a brow as she brushed by him and rushed into the kitchen carrying an empty bag of cookies and a dirty glass that had been sitting beside her couch.

"Fine," she said, but her voice was tight. She looked anything but fine. Her hair was yanked back in a ponytail, her eyes were frantic and anxious and she'd been picking her fingernails again. "Fine, honestly…" she trailed off and chewed her lip – another anxious habit she'd picked up over the last year.

"Sit down," she said, waving her hands toward the couch. "This is important. We need to talk."

The three men sat and finally she stopped moving. She closed her eyes and put her hands on her hips, taking a slow, deep breath and looking both Spencer and John in the eye. "I want you to be calm, okay? And I need you to forgive me. I'm sorry, really, believe me if there had been another way…" she trailed off, ignoring their bewildered looks. They'd understand soon enough and she had to say this first because they probably wouldn't let her after.

"You remember when you thought Doyle had killed me?" she asked, her voice still tight and anxious, "And how upset you were about JJ and Hotch lying to you about it?"

Slowly, Reid nodded, "But what does that have to do with anything? That was a long time ago."

"I know," Prentiss clapped her hands against her jeans and sat down across from them in the chair, "I know," she repeated. "Which is why this is so hard."

She cleared her throat, "Last year, Sherlock… Sherlock jumped off the roof at Saint Bartholomew's. Do either of you know why?"

Spencer and John frowned, both upset about the mention of Sherlock's suicide. Morgan held Reid's hand and squeezed gently, eyeing Prentiss and wondering why she'd bring that up now of all times. She could see all three of them putting pieces together in their minds.

She plunged forward before they could figure it out, "It was to protect you. Moriarty had snipers ready to kill everyone Sherlock cared about. One for you, John, one for Spencer, one for Mrs. Hudson and one for DI Lestrade. He had to jump to keep you safe…"

She swallowed and absently picked at her nails. God, she'd never thought this would be so damn difficult. "He had to jump, but he didn't necessarily have to die. Just… make everyone think he was dead."

"Are you telling us…" John's voice was soft, his eyes wide, "Is Sherlock alive?"

Prentiss nodded, about to answer when Sherlock's voice stopped her. She swore in her head loudly. She'd told him to wait until she was finished.

"Of course I am, John, do you really think I'd leave you alone?"

Silence. Dead silence filled the room as the consulting detective entered the room, dressed, thankfully, in his regular clothes that he had missed so very much since his "death".

Reid's fingers nearly cut the circulation off of Morgan's and his jaw fell open as he stared at his friend. He recovered first, hazel eyes wide and confused and full of conflicting emotions. "You're alive? You knew he was alive?" he turned to Prentiss, accusing her with those eyes and she shrunk back.

"Not at first," she said, "And I wanted to tell, but Reid, it was too dangerous. Moriarty's men were still out there, we couldn't risk them going after you or John or Mrs. Hudson. Mycroft told me when I moved to London, I've been helping them…"

"She's been more than helpful," Sherlock said, "I believe Mycroft has found someone else who doesn't actually work for him to order around." He smiled ruefully, his eyes on John. Spencer he knew would forgive him. Spencer he knew would understand. Spencer was his best friend, his first friend. Spencer had been through this before and while he hated that he'd done it to him again, it had been entirely necessary.

John on the hand… John. He couldn't ever really make this up to John. He wanted to. But he wasn't good at those sorts of things.

John was still silent, not talking, just staring, listening. Frozen.

"Was there really danger?" Spencer demanded, "So much that you couldn't tell us?"

"You know I would've if I could, Reid," Prentiss told him, "I hated lying to you and John, but Mycroft was right. It was too dangerous to tell you until we had all of Moriarty's men."

"And do you? Have them all?"

"We caught the last one last night," she answered, her eyes going to John as well. She thought he was in shock. He hadn't moved or said a word since Sherlock had walked into the room. She couldn't tell is he was relieved or angry or upset or anything. He was just staring.

And then, without warning, he stood and was across the room in seconds, grabbing Sherlock by his lapels and yanking him down to his level. He pressed his lips to Sherlock's in a fierce, slopping kiss while Sherlock struggled to remain upright. Just as he'd fully comprehended what was happening and started to reciprocate, John pulled back, staring at him with wide eyes. The room was silent again for a tense moment.

"Well," Sherlock swallowed roughly, tugging his jacket nervously. He had never expected that reaction, of all the reactions he'd imagined that was certainly not one of them. "I…" he was, for the first time in his life at a loss for words.

Apparently, so was John, because instead of saying anything else, he swung his arm back and landed a solid punch square on Sherlock's jaw. The younger man swayed back, letting out a surprised grunt at the impact and winced, blinking a few times before grinning broadly at his friend. _That _he had expected.

"I've missed you too, John."

* * *

**~The End~**

* * *

**A/N: **Have to say, that ending was fun to write. And really, you all know you want John and Sherlock to kiss when they reunite. :D It'd be perfect. Anyway, this is the end of this little two-part prediction/dream of mine. Hope you enjoyed and PLEASE REVIEW! I must know if this was good or terrible or whatever. Please let me know your thoughts.

Also, this was vaguely based on "The Adventure of the Empty House" from the original Sherlock Holmes stories by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Just in case anyone was curious. Very vaguely, but still, it was part of the inspiration.

Hope you enjoyed! Please review!


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